


we're on a boat (please let us get off!)

by CaptainRivaini



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, and thomas and miranda love flint to the point they like to be mean to him, max is the bane of eleanor's existence and her sexual frustration, this is crack this is so much crack wtf, where eleanor and flint are bros
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-15 10:18:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3443525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainRivaini/pseuds/CaptainRivaini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Eleanor Guthrie and James Flint live a life of crime, sing to The Lonely Island and are indeed, on a motherfucking boat at least AT ONE POINT.  Modern AU, Flint and Eleanor are the worst.</p>
<p>Max/Eleanor, James/Thomas/Miranda</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. excuse me ma'am but I AM THE LAW

**Author's Note:**

> what the fuck is this...

"That's  _our_  space..." Eleanor gritted out, eyeing her long-suffering partner in crime glaring at her from the back seat. "That spot has been just for us for, like, months, and this punk ass twat with a lamborghini just steals it."

Flint, as always when he was faced with the possibility of an Eleanor Guthrie tantrum, stroked his ginger beard with thought. Or murderous intent. Eleanor didn't mind which as long as he had an idea to get this lamborghini moved, and knowing Flint?

He most certainly did.

"We could key it." 

"I like your style, old man." Eleanor responded with a feral grin, blue eyes wide in the same delight that was reflected in Flint's own. "You be my getaway driver just in case the owner catches us."

Flint scoffed at that but gingerly maneuvered his way into the front. There were still remnants of dried ketchup near the window wipers which had sprayed the last time he had been getaway driver, so for Eleanor to ask this of him? Either she had a poor memory or was very forgiving

Eleanor got out of her side of the beat up old Chevrolet truck, smacking the hood of the vehicle with a grunt before making her way over, practically trying not to skip in her joy. This was going to be so much fun. Her and Flint hadn't had a good old getaway drive away from the authorities for a while, and so this...

She broke away from her thoughts to grab the key from her pocket, looking over her shoulder to see that Flint was watching her with a frown on his face but a smirk in his eyes. 

"Watch and learn, old man..." Eleanor said under her breath, kneeling down next to the red Lamborghini, key clutched tightly in between her fingers and her arm...

The sound of the Lamborghini horn going off made Eleanor stumble forwards into the hot red metal of the car, the heat causing her to curse loudly and push off the damned thing moments later, still swearing. "FUCK! Fucking piece of hot feeling asshole PISS ANTS YOU WHORE OF A GUN!"

Flint's laughter from the car where he was waiting only made her ire increase ten-fold. The goddamn ginger asshole. He had no soul, probably.

When she had recovered (hand still clutching the burning side of her face) Eleanor could see a pretty brunette peeking at her from inside. Her eyes were shielded by her large, dark sunglasses and when she moved her head to stare at Eleanor from just outside her window, body turned to face her, the blonde could see a devilish smile.

Pretty brunette or not, Eleanor was not going to stand for this shit, and so what if Flint still laughing heartily behind her was what made her rush over with hackles raised? So the fuck what?

"Listen _here_  lady, you-" Eleanor started to say, her hand shoving the key she was about to use to key the pretty brunette's car into her pocket in order to seem less guilty. 

Pretty brunette moved her dark shades from her eyes, revealing stunning brown eyes that made Eleanor pause, tongue suddenly feeling like it had exploded in her mouth. Not a good combination that. Did it suddenly get hot, in December? Why the fuck was this woman wearing glasses in December? What kind of woman did that? Why did Eleanor's head all of a sudden hurt?

"Is there something Max can 'elp you with?" The pretty brunette asked her, removing her glasses from her head entirely to place one of the tips of the arms to rest on her lower lip. "You seem...distressed."

The pretty brunette called Max continued to smile at her then, looking like the cat who got the cream.

Eleanor was still kind of angry about the glasses in winter thing, but eventually she managed to open her mouth to reply.

"Blegh." Came out, and probably drool, but mostly 'blegh'. It was one of those noises that Eleanor associated with the memory of her high school prom and dancing with a hunky bodybuilder known as Charles Vane (now known as 'Classic Charles'). It had been blegh. Very blegh.

The pretty brunette was definitely not 'blegh'. But Eleanor's mind was another thing entirely.

Pretty brunette cocked her head to the side, an amused twitch to her lips that made Eleanor's heart, for lack of better words, do some dub-step shit. 

"Blegh," the pretty brunette with the lovely french accent repeated, eyes watching Eleanor with great intent. "Max 'as never 'ad someone say that to 'er before."

Eleanor was tempted to say blegh again but - 

SHE HAD TO SNAP OUT OF IT. If she went back to Flint with this pretty brunette (called Max, just call her Max) still in their parking space...God he would just laugh at her, phone Thomas and Miranda and then all three of them would laugh as she threatened to murder them all. She could already hear the laughter, fuck, it was awful.

Eleanor clenched her jaw, steeling herself. "You're in my spot lady, this is where I always park and so I'm going to need to ask you to move."

Max twirled the glasses on her lower lip again and Eleanor hated her for it, even more so when Max looked her over, grinned and settled herself back into her car seat with a sigh of content. 

Eleanor didn't wait a second longer. "C'mon, don't bust my balls and just move."

"But I do not see your name on this parking space, did I miss it on the way 'ere?" Max made the effort to look over the space she was parked in, ignoring Eleanor's pointedly glaring face for a few moments more before she stopped to glance back over. "Is it 'public?' Is that your name? I-"

Eleanor did not like this pretty brunette and her stupid glass-wearing-in-December self, and in reality? She was not going to be putting up with her shit any longer, not when she could already feel Flint's confused gaze boring holes into the back of her head. 

She inhaled and exhaled deeply, crossing her arms across her chest and slamming her foot down with a growl: "You're going to regret this lady, you're messing with the law."

Max placed her shades back onto the top of her head, a single eyebrow cocked in disbelief. "Is that so?"

Sweat was starting to make the back of Eleanor's neck prickle in discomfort. God fucking damn, why couldn't the girl just bloody move... What did she actually have to do in order to make Max move so her and Flint could have their bloody usual parking space?! What usually made people move when asked?

Eleanor paused, lower lip caught in between her teeth and her mind still whirling at the dark, smug look apparent in the pretty brunette's gaze. 

This was probably going to be the best idea she ever had, and Flint wasn't even here to steal the credit like he usually did in front of Thomas and Miranda.

Mental self high-five.

"Ma'am I won't ask you again," Eleanor said again, this time adopting a much deeper tone of voice and going to her back pocket to fish for her wallet that contained her ID, "I am the officer of the law and me and my partner need this parking space to do a little recon. Urgent matters cause for drastic measures, lady."

Max let her shades drop from the top of her head to land squarely back on her nose, covering her faces once more. But that smirk? That was hard to hide and Eleanor found that she was struggling not to mention it, but as she had just said, urgent matters cause for drastic measures, right?

It took a moment for Eleanor to realize that Max was looking behind her, and so when she turned to see that her 'partner' James Flint was busy braiding his hair and sucking his thumb to glide over his hair? 

Eleanor sighed deeply. Fucking Flint.

She turned back to stare Max down regardless, jabbing her thumb behind her shoulder. "Ma'am, I won't ask again."

"Where is your cuffs, madam officer?" Max questioned, but to Eleanor's relief she was already starting up the engine. 

_'Up your ass,'_  Eleanor thought. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"I would actually," Max agreed with a quirk of her lips and another chuckle that made Eleanor grit her teeth in exasperation. "But for now I will remove myself from yours and your...partner's space. I just started working 'ere under Mr 'amilton, 'ad I known 'e favored police officers 'ere...well..."

Eleanor, if possible, turned redder than she had been previously. Which meant a lot considering she had burned the whole right side of her face, honestly it wouldn't surprise her if she looked like she had just gone to war with this sickly gravy looking redness on her face. 

She resisted the urge to stomp her foot again, instead choosing to jab over her shoulder more impatiently than ever. If she had to guess, she would assume she looked like she was participating in some rather ridiculous dance move that only old men like Flint liked to use when on the dance-floor.

Max shifted her the car's gear into reverse, looking ready to pull out. But of course, not before she had the final say and moved her shades up her face again. 

Whatever. She looked ridiculous with them on in December anyway, and if Eleanor could actually get her tongue to work properly then maybe she would tell Max that. But right now, she was just kind of scared she would 'blegh' her again.

"Perhaps next time I'm 'ere I'll see you in uniform," oh, well. Eleanor looked down at her ratty tank and her even faded, black jeans, yes, well... "I always  _did_  like a woman in uniform."

Eleanor felt her tongue swell up again and she tried hard not to stumble over it in her attempt to reply.

"Blegh." 

Ugh!

Max grinned again, wound up her window fully and with a small wave that did not make Eleanor want to do anything but throw her out of that goddamn window, she was on her way out of the parking lot. And had the indecency to take her shades off and fan herself like it was a hot day. The nerve of this woman...

Flint pulled in a few moments later, eyeing Eleanor with a look that she knew she was about to wipe off his face the moment realization suddenly hit her. Like a crack of a whip, the conversation she had just had with Max came to the very front of Eleanor's mind, and in truth?

Shit, holy fucking shit.

"Flint!" She called out to him, opening the door that was to the wheel and shoving him aside with such force that it sent him flying to the other side. Weakling. "Flint we've got a problem."

Flint, to his credit, managed to look rather calm for someone whom had just been shoved face first up a plastic window with his hair sprawled everywhere. Eleanor knew that was going to change soon enough however, and well, she wasn't really looking forward to it.

"If you're talking about your face Miss Guthrie then..." He trailed off, catching Eleanor's eye and letting out a pained moan, "it has been a week, we can't get arrested so soon now! What were you thinking?!"

Eleanor smashed her hand against the horn of the truck, sending out a violent, arguably ferocious noise of shrieking sound. "It's worse than that ginger gramps, okay? A hundred fucking percent worse than that!"

Flint watched her warily but he seemed curious too, almost as though he couldn't believe they had already fucked up this week and he had had no involvement in it. If Eleanor could feel his optimism, she would have probably shook his hand.

Nope, too busy busting her balls over the worst idea she had ever allowed herself to have. And then to make matters worse, lie to herself that it had in fact been a  _good_  idea.

"Promise you're not going to be mad." Eleanor said, eyes narrowed at her partner in crime to assess the twitch of Flint's ginger mustache and what that could possibly mean. 

Flint's mustache twitched again. "Eleanor..."

"That does not sound like you trying not to be angry..."

"Eleanor!"

"WE NEED TO BECOME POLICE OFFICERS, OKAY GINGER GAY? I told the woman who was in our parking space that we were cops," Eleanor's eyes widened the same time as she saw Flint's do the exact same, though his eyes were...arguably more murderous than hers. "She was pretty and I got distracted! It's no big deal! She works here and it was the only lie that I had on me at the time!"

Flint got up so fast as if to lunge at her that he forgot he was in a vehicle in the first place, only successfully bumping his head and cursing loudly even as he screamed at her. "The only lie?! The only fucking lie you had? Where are you getting these from, YAHOO ANSWERS?"

"Fuck you! You still use Bing!"

"It's more reliable than you right now!" Flint argued back, and if Eleanor was honest, it was a pretty good burn. 

Eleanor was not honest. She had just lied to a random stranger that, whilst admittedly pretty, she was indeed a police officer and James Flint was her partner. 

Fuck this. 

"Flint, this was the stupidest fucking idea we've-"

"You've-"

"We've ever had." Eleanor finished, slumping in her chair and allowing her forehead to press onto the horn.

After a few moments of loud horn blaring (that resembled the song Uptown Funk with how Flint kept moving her head up and down, side to side, most likely as an act of revenge), Eleanor had had enough of her self-wallowing. Sure they were mostly always getting bailed out of prison by Mrs B, but that didn't mean shit, right? Besides it wasn't as if they had to actually be police officers, they could easily just get the uniform, right?

Flint was the first to speak, breaking Eleanor away from her thoughts: "Does Vane still work here as security?" 

Eleanor didn't quite get why the hell Flint gave one shit about if Vane still worked in Thomas' company, but she nodded regardless. She didn't trust herself to talk about Vane without feeling somewhat sick, ooh, there went that bile again...

"We could key  _his_ car." Flint suggested, his voice slick to the point that when Eleanor turned to eye him suspiciously she wasn't all that surprised to see him smirking at her. 

"How does that change our situation one fucking whit?" Eleanor groused, but in spite of herself she could not deny the excitement that was starting to bubble in her chest at the thought of fucking Charles over. 

Flint shrugged, his smirk cunning and contagious. "It doesn't, but it sure makes me feel better."

Eleanor could not find it in her to disagree and together they got out of their truck in search for Classic Charles' car.


	2. stupid sexy max

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eleanor has the best ideas EVER (Flint looks great in his skin tight uniform.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> max u need to stop getting these two into trouble ok

**M** r and Mrs Hamilton (but for the sake of this story, it's Mrs B to you) were waiting for both Flint and Eleanor the moment they stepped into the building, Miranda on her phone eyeing her warily and Thomas simply beaming. He always looked like he was pleased to see them, even when half the time he saw them they were on the other side of rusty bars.

Eleanor always thought he looked a bit of an idiot, staring at them like some loved-up asshole. But then again, she was just glad he put those puppy eyes onto Flint rather than her, but not including the fact that it was like watching her mother and father hit on her other, more ginger father...

Thomas placed a hand on Flint's shoulder, shaking it affectionately with a beaming smile. "You look sour, James."

"He always looks sour," Eleanor muttered under her breath, groping her own ass in order to stop herself from picking the keys out of her pocket and waving them accusingly in Mrs B's face. Mrs B handled most of security when she wasn't busy trying to keep the law from busting their asses, and so in Eleanor's mind she must have known, KNOWN, that pretty brunette lady was in their parking space today.

Flint side-eyeing her however told her to shut up, and as much as she would rather eat shit than listen to him right now...

They had just keyed Charles', the security guy's, car. Which had been Flint's idea. And it had been kinda funny.

Eleanor sighed. She supposed that she had to let Flint have some sort of affection from these weird surrogate parents.

"We need a favor Thomas," Flint informed his weirdly-homoerotic-are-they-aren't-they partner, tugging at his polo shirt with a look of discomfort a parent had when they were just about to confess to relatives that their child had done something completely stupid and would need assistance immediately. Which...wasn't exactly untrue. "A big one."

Miranda stopped talking into her phone, removing it from her ear. "Is this a legal favor?"

Thomas smiled at her over his shoulder, "darling-"

"Sort of." Flint informed her, cutting across Thomas.

"Depends if we get caught." Eleanor said, cutting across the two men with a haughty shrug to accompany it. "What? It's true."

Miranda rolled her eyes so far into the back of her head that it looked like she was near enough going to be possessed. It was a trait of Miranda's that all four of them, (including Miranda herself) found deeply admirable, if not slightly terrifying.

She placed the phone back to her ear again, mouthing the words 'don't do anything stupid' before she departed quickly, loudly cursing the poor sod who was on the other end of the line.

With only three of them left, and her being the only lady (which was kind of pushing it...) Eleanor found herself staring at her two sort of surrogate dads having a heated eye-fuck. If she wanted to be honest, at least Flint was attempting to tell Thomas the favor, Thomas on the other hand?

Aggressive heart eyes.

Jesus Christ, this was...embarrassing as fuck.

"-and you see...this is all Eleanor's fault."

Eleanor snapped to her attention, giving Flint the meanest glare she could muster now that she saw Flint was smiling and wriggling his brows at her. Bloody asshole.

Thomas, seeming to have figured out a long time ago that Flint teasing Eleanor was just as dangerous as Eleanor teasing Flint, stepped forward to give Eleanor his most condescending, but well-meaning, smile. "Eleanor..." he started to say before he paused, noticing that her glare was now moved onto him. Well, ahem. "I'm not sure what you want me to do, James didn't explain very well, but if I gather right then..."

"We need police uniforms." Eleanor interrupted again, crossing her arms. "We've...had a change of heart."

Flint scoffed. Eleanor jabbed him in the gut until he turned red in the face.

"...yes, a change of heart..." Flint managed to cough out once Eleanor had stopped trying to mutilate his side until it was nothing but elbow creases and red, sore skin. 

Thomas eyed both of them warily. Flint and Eleanor smiled right back, if somewhat stiffly.It was hard to lie to someone you loved, or in Eleanor's case, tolerated because he let her sleep on his couch now and then. But Flint and Eleanor? They powered through it regardless.

They were good at it.

Unfortunately for them? Thomas was a rather astute man, and without further ado? He raised a finger to them as though he was about to scold them.

"You want uniforms to become police officers, but...not actually join the police force?" Thomas finished with a pat of his index finger to his chin, looking as though whilst he was not going to scold them, analyse them, he would. Flint looked delighted. Eleanor looked like she wanted to set him on fire.

Why did Thomas need to be so astute for? What kind of fucking word was astute anyway?

Thomas cocked his head to the side, eyes wide and blue and...

"Flint don't you fucking dare-" She tried to warn her friend, hands already moving to cover Flint's eyes in order to spare him (and herself) what they both knew was going to happen next.

"We're going to become vigilantes in order to ruin the life of a pretty brunette girl Eleanor likes." Flint confessed, looking almost apologetic as the last word fell from his mouth. 

However that was before Thomas smiled at him, then he just looked damned proud, ginger beard practically stretching under his wide grin that practically screamed 'sempai noticed me'. 

Eleanor wanted to murder him, and had already planned six different ways to do so. "Flint! You piece of shit!"

Flint didn't even give a damn, he was too busy looking at Thomas like the sun was shining out of his ass. 

Thomas turned to her then, his eyes locking onto hers and pulling her in like a vortex, grasping onto her very being, her essence, pulling and pushing all at once...Maybe the sun did shine out of his ass, because Thomas? He was so nice, nicer than anyone Eleanor had ever met who knew about the fact she and Flint were probably the worst criminals around. Hell, he still invited them around for movie nights with him and Miranda every Sunday...

Wait a minute.

Eleanor shoved her finger into Thomas' chest, pushing him back a few paces. "No way! I'm immune to your goody-two-shoes feelings! So is Flint HALF the time! Nope, fuck this, I'm going to wait in the car so you two can be gross in peace."

It was important to remember, to really remember, that Eleanor saw both of them as old dinosaurs as well as surrogate parents. And in that moment? She was convinced that she did not want to see dinosaurs or surrogate parents bone, so the car was where she went.

She was half way out of the room, heading towards the elevator, when she realized Flint had mentioned something. Something that 100% was not true, and in the long run? Needed to be corrected.

Eleanor rushed back to see Flint was already on his knees (she really did not need the confirmation that Flint was the subbiest sub to ever sub, but it was nice to know she had won that one bet with...that one dude she had met in a bar), and immediately a hand flew to her eyes.

"And for the record!" She yelled at the both of them, backing out of the room as slowly as possible. "I'm not into pretty brunettes! I'm over them!"

"You were into Charles." Flint shot back, but considering his mouth was quite busy it sounded more like a choking cat.

Eleanor didn't want to hear anymore, and attempted not to trip her way out of the office to go back to the car park. Flint was so fucking gross, always so fucking gross.

* * *

**F** lint finally returned an hour later, his face unnaturally redder than his hair and his lips pulled into a smirk.

Eleanor refused to let him into the truck, locking the door with a grunt.

"Don't be a brat." Flint warned, scowling as he tried to wrench the door open, kicking at the door as he did so, "I had to tell Thomas! He wouldn't give us uniforms otherwise!"

Eleanor, having not realized what Flint was wearing until this very second, looked over to see that (to her horror), Flint was wearing a tight-skin blue police outfit with a matching hat settled on the top of his head. And when she said tight skinned...

"Jesus fuck, Flint!" Eleanor covered her eyes, praying beyond belief that the sight of Flint's bulge would just go the fuck away. "No way am I allowing you in my truck looking like one of those old pensioners from  _'Off Their Rockers'!_  Get changed!"

Flint's answer was to smack at the door again, only stopping to readjust his hat and glare up at her from the door's window. "May I remind you that you're the one who proposed this ridiculous idea? Police officers, really!"

It was preposterous really, how Flint actually thought that he had no help in making that idea. Or at least, not to his own knowledge. But Eleanor was a flawed individual, and even she needed a break from having ALL the blame cast on her.

She threw her hands up in the air, blowing a raspberry out of frustration. "Alright! I panicked! Happens to everyone!"

"It was just a  _girl_ , Ellie." Flint said in that condescending tone of voice that made Eleanor want to open the door just to see the imprint it would leave on his freckled forehead. 

Instead she merely huffed, folding her arms across her chest and slumping down in the driver's seat with the grace of a petulant child. "You're a fucking girl," she grumbled. "But that would be complimenting you, you're just a fucking trashy old fart."

At the look of Flint's widening smile it looked like he was going to answer back, but even before he could there was the sound of an almighty wailing noise and if she had blinked she would have missed the sight of a red Lamborghini sailing past them. Luckily Eleanor did not blink, and when she indeed did take a closer look she could see that the vehicle was now spinning uncontrollably in the middle of the road before it regained its balance, aligning itself perfectly (despite the cars surrounding it) and speeding ahead.

Eleanor didn't hesitate. She turned the key of her truck and moved to start rolling the window down on the locked car door. "Get in asshole, we need to catch that car!"

_"What?!"_  Flint's high pitched squeak would have made her laugh at any other time, but right now? Eleanor was a little busy!

She revved the engine, eyes focused on the speeding red blip that was getting further and further away as she waited on Flint. "GET IN THE FUCKING CAR, JAMES!"

"You crazy woman, it's locked!" Flint screamed back at her, something akin to rage and panic making his face look like an awful mixture of purple and red, almost like a grape. "What am I supposed to do, get in through the window?"

Eleanor pressed down on the gas, eyes narrowed into slits. " _Yes!"_

Flint screamed angrily at her but moved so fast to wrap his hands around the wound down window that Eleanor didn't know what to expect, that was, of course, until she felt her truck lurch forward and to the side, Flint's weight causing a loud bang. 

His yells of ' _fuck you_ ' soon followed once Eleanor had managed to drive off Thomas Hamilton's business (what the fuck did he even work as?) parking area and into the busy road, and then of course was accompanied by Flint trying desperately to pull him and his dangling legs inside the truck. Eleanor would have helped, of course she would have, but her hands were full and she was far too preoccupied with the thought of catching up with the pretty brunette, Max.

Her truck was not exactly the most speediest of vehicles, nor was it the safest ( _'R.I.P Little Johnny, your feline face will not be missed'_ ,) but it would be more than enough to catch up with Max, especially if they used their sirens and...

Eleanor allowed her thought to end there with a huff. 

Whoever decided it was a good idea not to include sirens on trucks was going to be receiving glitter in the mail.

Flint was still struggling to get in the car, though by now his torso was pressed against the frame of the door so there was that. He most certainly didn't look like he was going to fall out and die, so unless he hung off completely and lost his grip (yelling timber) then...

"Get out the car, Flint!" And like that, one hand on the wheel, the other stretched out against his chest, Eleanor pushed Flint back out of the window with a triumphant grin at the yell that followed.

_"Eleanoooooooooooooooooor!"_

Eleanor honked her horn in reply, laughing wildly at the look of anger that spread over Flint's face when she swerved just narrowly enough to miss an oncoming car speeding their way. In hindsight maybe she should have warned Flint about her plan the moment it had sprung to her head, but that would have been hardly any fun, and the look on his face? Priceless.

Granted he had been the one to suggest keying Charles car to cheer her up, but...

A slight tug at her heart and a wriggle of her stomach made Eleanor pause, feeling something indescribable settle there. Humph. 

No doubt it was just indigestion, she would just have to struggle through it.

"Just call her over! You're a police officer! Just tell her to pull over!" Eleanor instructed when Flint demanded what the hell she was doing, his poor butt smacking against several side mirrors because of Eleanor's speeding and crap direction. 

Flint, having caught wind on what Eleanor had said, forgot about the fact he was literally holding on for dear life to roll his eyes at her.

Eleanor rolled her eyes right back which in retrospect? Probably explained why she actually managed to snap one of the side mirror's off another car as she drove past. Humph. 

Well, they shouldn't have been driving today. 

"Just call her over!" Eleanor insisted, pressing her foot harder on the gas to propel them forward down the highway until she just about see Max's irritating shades dangling from her hand as she drove. What an idiot, wearing shades in winter for one was just...Eleanor wasn't going to get into it. And two...

Ugh, stupid sexy Max.

Flint was still looking at her as though she possessed two heads, his chin trembling with what she assumed was barely contained rage, which explained the sudden resemblance to a ginger bull terrier that had sprouted right at the front of Eleanor’s mind. She didn’t know why he bothered really, she knew he was going to give in about 3...2...1...

“Fuck you Ellie.”

* * *

  **M** ax smiled with impish delight as Eleanor and Flint both sauntered over to her ridiculously expensive red Lamborghini, once again fanning herself with the shades that made Eleanor want to rush over, grab them and throw them as far as she could and hope they hit a citizen in distress.

Instead Eleanor tried her best to remain calm, promptly elbowing Flint in the ribs when he muttered about her inability to keep ‘her shit together’ when she was around attractive women, and how in reality? It would apparently only ‘be a matter of time’ before she attempted something truly drastic. Like, well, she didn’t know, killing a man probably.

(The last time had been an accident!)

“Next time you want to impress a woman?  _Don’t_  impersonate a police officer and  _get her flowers, like normal people!_ ” Flint growled from the corner of his mouth, his own elbow now challenging Eleanor’s in a rapid war of pressing into each other’s ribs. 

“Like you’re a goddamn expert!” Eleanor flicked his elbow away with her own, and just when she thought Flint was going to retaliate with another lousy old tactic of his, Eleanor beat him to it by pinching his hip with her free hand and digging her elbow into her target. Bingo you old fuck!

“Can I ‘elp the both of you?” Max’s voice came loudly from where the woman was practically hanging out of the window of her car, sounding a mixture of annoyed and amused. Eleanor tried not to let it bother her too much that she abandoned all attempts at winning the elbow war and walked that little bit faster.

Flint snorted and the urge to punch him in the face made Eleanor grit her teeth.

Eleanor didn’t let it bother her too much however, and with a large inhale of breath she raised her head and walked even faster, working herself up. “Yes ma’am! You can help us actually! You’re in big trouble-”

“That’s how porn starts Ellie-”

“BIG TROUBLE!” 

Max grinned, showing all of her pretty pearly whites and looking so damned gorgeous that...

Eleanor sent a wide-eyed look at Flint beside her, she wasn’t going to make it and from the look of horror that was Flint’s expression? He knew it too and was just as terrified. It was one of those moments when Flint realized that he really was the only one that Eleanor went to when things went to shit, which kind of made him...responsible...

He frowned his 27 year old frown and thought the only thought he could think at the time: _holy fucking shit._

It was then followed up by: _I didn’t sign up for this._

"I’m sorry ma’am but my partner is right!” Flint heard himself saying even as sirens were going off in his head, so loud and so incredibly obnoxious it was a surprise he didn’t start turning different colours in frustration. “You’re breaking...several laws! Several! Do you know how serious this is?” And when Max didn’t answer he found himself patting her car angrily, almost as if that would encourage her to answer. “Well?!”

Eleanor leaned forward, hands on her hips and eyes narrowed, staring attentively at the beaming woman in the car. “Super serious, seriously.”

Max’s eyebrows (they too, Eleanor noted, were ridiculously pretty) drew together and her lashes batted prettily (everything was so fucking pretty), as if she knew the effect she had on the both of them and was readily taking advantage of it. The thought of that made Eleanor’s stomach do back flips, somersaults and then karate, though that she put down to indigestion again.

Max leaned further out of her window then, which of course, prompted Eleanor to move further back until she was pressed up against Flint’s chest and his disgusting tight police outfit.

“Surely there is something I can do in order to, well...” Max’s eyes dropped slightly to the open button of Eleanor’s tight jeans (Eleanor tried hard not to flush and wonder how the fuck that had happened) before moving back up again, tilting her head to the side for extra effect. “Get you to drop these charges? Something personal?”

The only answer to that was Eleanor looking once more over her shoulder at Flint, both of their eyes remarkably wide at the lewd (was it meant to be lewd? Oh god were they just perverts?) comment. It really  _was_ turning into a porno out here...

Flint looked severely uncomfortable, almost as though he was going to cough up a lung. Eleanor had a feeling she would be joining him sooner rather than later. god, it should NOT be so hot in winter...

Eleanor opened her mouth, then closed it, opened it and then closed it once more with an audible popping noise. 

“Bleg- I am immune to your ridiculously white teeth and nice hair!” Eleanor declared, choosing to ignore how she had managed to fuck up that last part of her sentence with her stammer. God damn it! “And your pretty hair and cute face! I’m immune to it! And by the way? You’re under arrest!”

It was that moment fate decided to fuck all three of them over, and so, before the three had noticed, the sound of wailing sirens filled the air with the yelling and shouting soon after enough to make them freeze. They already knew what and who it was before they had turned around, and if it wasn’t for the fact Flint and Eleanor were so far away from their truck, they would have made a dash for it.

Instead Flint just sighed, turning to face the approaching policemen with a glare that made them pause, look down at the unsightly bulge of his uniform and snigger. It also didn’t help that Flint and Eleanor were regulars to these men, and seeing one of he most notoriously bad criminals in the world standing in front of them with a skin tight uniform on was...

One of them couldn’t hold in his sniggers any longer and clutched his sides, only able to stumble his way over to scene by having his fellow officers drag him over from under his arms.

The only officer that was not laughing ordered for Max to get out of the car and for Flint and Eleanor to get on their knees with their hands in the air, stating the usual that they had heard all before. The right to remain silent, yabba yabba, whatever. Of course neither of them knew what they had done, but if Eleanor had to guess...

“Listen officer I needed to pee, you can’t fault me for going just a little bit faster than usual, right?” Eleanor tried to worm her way out as she usually did, but her efforts were answered with a patronizing pat to her head that made Flint nearly snarl at the officer who had done so. “And yes! My friend here really needs to go too! You can understand why his kind of angry about it, right Flint?”

“Alright Guthrie that’s enough, shut your mouth and maybe I won’t stuff a sock in it,” one of them replied, laughing to himself as he went over to where Max was now seated on the hood of her car, looking as amused as Eleanor and Flint. “Ma’am I saw you speeding over the limit,  _waaaay_  over the limit. Now I’m not sure you know about these two, but both of them are still criminally active and if I believe right have only just been out of jail for a week, so if they have approached you with intention of harming you then-”

Max’s face scrunched together in confusion, “harm to me? Officer no, they were just racing Max, that’s all.”

Flint grins at the drop of the concerned expression that had been on the officer’s face, now replaced with something very akin to anger with a mix of impatience.

“I don’t think you understand the consequences of your actions here today, ma’am these are dangerous-”

“She’s French, not stupid!” Eleanor called out to them and received two cuffs of cold metal around her wrists as an answer. Her arms were then pressed behind her back and it took only moments for Flint to be in the same situation as her, grumbling all the way about Eleanor’s ‘big mouth’. 

“I’m aware officer, you’ve told me this,” Max looked even more amused than before even with the heat of the officer’s glare on her, “but we were racing and if you’re going to arrest them for that, then I  _suspect_  I’m also guilty of the same crime.”

The officer stared her down, utterly perplexed whilst Eleanor was utterly overjoyed.

“She’s the one Flint,” and then when Max turned to look at her with a smirk (eyes like wildfire when the officer grabbed her wrists to cuff them) she changed her tune completely, a scowl on her face. “You’re  _such_ an idiot.”

“Your friend is the one in a skin tight police uniform, Guthrie,” someone said behind her.

Flint glared. 

“You’re all under arrest, the whole lot of you,” they were then hauled to their feet, the sound of muttering and angry curses filling the air as both Flint, Eleanor and Max were pushed towards the police cars that were a few feet away. “Can’t believe this, I don’t get paid enough to baby sit fucking criminals like you two, and now another little French vigilante? This is...I did not leave my basement for this!”

“This is your fault,” someone said and of course it led into Elbow War 2 between Flint and Eleanor, with neither of them willing to admit that in truth? 

Yep, definitely Eleanor’s fault, whom if you asked what her statement would be? Ahem...

Stupid sexy Max.


	3. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) you want her to touch your tra la la? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> flint is like the worst bro ever and reveals his love for the good wife. eleanor hits him with a baseball bat. it is ALL in good fun

**T** homas had no idea what this meeting was about, but with the stern look on his father’s face it was clearly about something important. Or trivial. He could never remember which word to use when it came to his father.

Luckily for him at the moment that it looked like Alfred Hamilton was going to go into another lecture about the business, his phone vibrated in his pocket and (with a stern look from Miranda, which he promptly ignored) seconds later he took it out to have a look who it was from.

_James Flint._

As if he could not believe that God had been so good to him in receiving a text off his paramour, (because Thomas was old fashioned as heck) Thomas showed his phone to Miranda with a grin. Miranda replied with an eye roll and a look on her face that clearly begged the question on why she put up with both him and that ginger stray cat known as James Flint. Thomas didn’t mind, he knew that his wife had a soft spot for James, and even Eleanor to an extent.

He opened the text message with a quick glance to see his father had turned his back to explain something that was on the board. Plenty of time.

>   
> **James (13:06)**  help 

Alarmed on what  _that_  could mean, Thomas quickly answered back, once again showing Miranda the text before getting down to business in order to help the ginger walrus he cherished dearly.

>   
> **Thomas (13:08)**  James? What is it? Are you hurt? Did Eleanor stab you in the leg again? I told you not to try and mess with the gears when she’s driving, you know she doesn’t like that.

Miranda hooked her foot around his ankle, trying to gain his attention as best as she could so it at least looked like he gave a damn on what Alfred Hamilton was saying. But of course when it came to James, Thomas’ mind was scattered at best and even Miranda had to admit she could understand why, even if she did not act like she did, preferring to remain ignorant of her affection for him until James was in front of her.

She looked over Thomas’ shoulder however and heaved a sigh. 

>   
> **James (13:10)**  help help help help help help help   
>  **James (13:10)**  el got us in (ghost emoticon) with (gun emoticon) (police hat emoticon) and (sexy stripper lady emoticon)

“Eleanor got us into...I’m guessing that is trouble, with the police and...” Miranda frowned, tilting her head to the side and addressing her husband with a hushed tone of voice. “Did Max check in with us this morning? I didn’t see her at the receptionist desk after Eme’s shift.”

Realization dawned on Thomas’ face. Miranda smiled in reply and whispered what she wanted for Thomas’ reply to be.

>   
> **Thomas (13:15)**  James, first tell me this. How are you managing to text under police supervision and secondly, what is it that you did wrong to get into this situation? **James (13:16)**  el fault. did (car emoticon) after (sexy stripper lady emoticon). im (angel emoticon)

Thomas looked over at his wife, smiling brightly at the growing look of exasperation that was pulling her features taut, strained even to the point that she looked as though she was five seconds away from scolding him. It only made his smile grow wider to the point that it took only a moment more before Miranda gave in, shaking her head.

“Fine Thomas, just fine.” And then, because his wife was the biggest fucking badass to exist, Miranda got up and cleared her throat to grab the rest of the board’s attention. “While this meeting with Alfred has been...enlightening,” she took particular pleasure in the outrage that was clear in his eyes at her pause, “my husband and I need to be elsewhere, so, scurry along, do whatever you menials do when we aren’t watching.”

Miranda took Thomas by the shoulder then, lifting him up from his seat with a strained smile.

“Come my love, we’re leaving.”

Thomas could only beam at her. He had the best wife in the entire universe.

* * *

  **“N** ame?” The officer asked.

“Fuck you.” Flint replied, ignoring Eleanor’s thumbs up from the other end of the line up that the police had thrown them in. 

“Kiss his wrinkly ginger ass!” Eleanor called then, a laugh following soon after as well as the sound of French curses further on, probably demanding that the blonde woman shut up. For once he found himself agreeing with the pretty French girl who he had finally discovered (after much pushing from the police) her name as being Max.

He only shook his head at the officer who tried to prompt him again, because honestly? He was pretty sure he knew the officer by name now, something like Phil or Billy, or whatever. At least it wasn’t Classic Charles like it had been in that last dream he had involving him. 

(Flint tried not to remember ANY dream involving Classic Charles. Eleanor on the other hand, was not so lucky in blocking out terrible things.)

A large fist at the screen separating him between the camera/Billy/Phil/whatever made Flint raise a brow, which of course made his skin tight suit feel even more uncomfortable. He didn’t know that worked either, but even moving his face made the suit feel like it was suffocating him and he was half afraid he would end up with his balls being squeezed to death, and not pleasantly either.

“FLINT. GUTHRIE. GET OUT HERE NOW.” Said the fist, or rather the red-faced Chief who kept banging on the window as if to emphasize his point as best as he could. “The french gimp too, get her out. NOW!”

It was that moment Eleanor tried to be chivalrous. Which really was her just yelling angrily that the ‘gimp’ was called Max and she would kick all of their asses. Flint wondered why he had such a pathetic broship with this younger woman, but thinking was hard, especially when he was being dragged out of a room at such speed his head was spinning.

His head only stopped spinning when he saw Thomas and Miranda staring at him, Eleanor and Max the moment they were pulled out of the room. Then it felt more like someone was trying to hammer a nail there and into his chest, his heart suddenly feeling heavy at the disappointed look on both of their faces.

Jesus Christ.

“You’re paying our bail already? Nice.” Eleanor grinned at him, then realizing that Flint was far from happy, let her grin drop and rolled her eyes. “Alright, we’re sorry. Can you stop staring at Flint like that now? You’re making him hard to look at.”

Miranda’s smile was painful as she turned to Eleanor and Flint wondered if she was going to stab the younger woman with her words. Wouldn’t be the first time, and Eleanor really did not know how to understand when her ass was going to be handed to her...

“How did you manage to get us out this time?” Flint asked, lowering his eyes slightly when Thomas turned to face him.

“By throwing money at the nearest officer of course,” Thomas answered with a confused expression on his face, clearly not understanding what other answer there could be to solving a situation like this. He had, of course, really thrown so much money at the nearest officer it had ended up going up to his knees until Miranda had taken him by the hand, shook her head and whispered ‘no’.

Clearly he had been spending too much time with Eleanor and her usual way of getting out of things. Thomas still looked to be itching to go inside his pocket to retrieve more money to throw at people. Flint on the other hand just wanted to go hold Thomas’ hand. It was a dilemma, of course, he wasn’t willing to make known. So he instead sulked, because he  _was_  good at it.

Eleanor nudged him again. He nudged her back and resisted the urge to bare his teeth at her. He was not. in. the. mood.

Miranda touched his cheek before she started to pet it harder than expected, the slap of her palm against his skin making him redden under her gaze. He felt like he was a child and Miranda was going to turn the ass whup she had planned for Eleanor onto him, and frankly? That just didn’t seem fair.

The officer who had brought them out however managed to save him some embarrassment, clearing his throat and addressing all five of them with a steely-eyed glare. “Alright, you paid us off, now fuck off outta my station and GUTHRIE if I see your hands go anywhere near that lady’s backside again I will-”

“SHE STOLE MY WALLET!” Eleanor protested loudly, practically trying to jump at the now grinning Max who was already weaving her way out of the police station with a speed that was near inhuman. “Stop her! Someone! STOP THAT WOMAN! Mrs B, throw your Puritan lady books at her, Mrs B!”

“Oh do be  _quiet_  Eleanor...” Miranda merely sighed, a long-suffering sigh of a woman who had put up with Eleanor for far too many years of her life.

Eleanor, seemingly humbled by such a tired and yet scathing tone of Miranda Barlow, thinned her lips together and  _(surprisingly)_  did shut up.

It was the first thing that had made Flint grin since this whole mess.

* * *

  **“Flint.”** Eleanor said beside him, her eyes drawn to the twitching of his nose, “Flint, look.”

Flint smacked his raggedy baseball against the ceiling again, very much fed up and willing to sulk for a good week until he felt practically murderous again. It usually didn’t take long, but after Thomas had dropped him off at Eleanor’s apartment instead of his? Well...

“Flint.” 

He ignored her, allowing the ball to fall back down and hit him on the forehead with a resounding smacking noise. It rolled off and landed in the small space that separated him and Eleanor on the younger woman’s bed. 

“Flint! LOOK!” And then, as if him ignoring her wasn’t a sign enough, she shoved her phone in his face and used her fingers to pry his eyelids open. “Just in case your old skin lids were getting too hard for you to keep open...”

>   
> **Unknown (18:10)**  Thank you for the date today. It was fun. ;) (baguette emoticon)  
>  **Unknown (18:11)**  Next time? Try not to lose your wallet, you never know what kind of person is going to steal it. ;) I found it in my car.  
>  **Eleanor (18:15)**  YOU!!!! I’M NOT GOING TO REST UNTIL I STRANGLE YOU! YOU WATCH YOUR BACK!  
>  **Unknown (18:16)**  Breath play is my foreplay. (Eiffel Tower emoticon)

Flint looked up from the phone to Eleanor to see that she was wide-eyed and flushed, and he had to admit that seeing her like this? It really did make him feel like, 4.5% better.

“She even texts French...” Eleanor whispered in disbelief, staring down at her phone and then back at him, aghast.

Flint didn’t bother to explain how wrong Eleanor was, however he did have an idea and without further ado he grabbed the phone off of her with a laugh, bringing it up to his face and grinning at the blonde next to him. He had a plan alright, and he was pretty sure Ellie was going to fucking hate it.

When Eleanor threatened to rip his fingers from his hands if he didn’t give her phone back he merely tutted, “let me handle this, I’ll get her to leave you alone.”

“I don’t want her to leave me alone you turd! I’m playing hard to get!”

“I’LL EXPRESS THAT!” Flint promised, grinning as he began to type in the message that he felt would most certainly convey what Eleanor wanted in a matter of a few button pushes. 

Goddammit if only his hands weren't so small...

> **Eleanor (18:30)**  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) sxy lady ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)   
>  **Eleanor (18:30)**  u touch my tra la la ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) my ding ding dong  
>  **Eleanor: (18:31)**  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) summer luvin ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) hvin bl ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) -

Flint felt the baseball bat (made of rubber) that he had won in a really weird cereal box hit against his head, sending him and the phone crashing off the bed with a thump.

“Flint you heathen fuck!” He heard briefly before he felt another smack against him, his ass this time and the smack was most definitely Eleanor’s foot kicking at him. 

“You want her to touch your tra la la...” He mumbled in his defense, already turning on his stomach to crawl to the only safe location he could think of where Eleanor would not be able to get him - under her own bed, where her breasts were her downfall and prevented her from getting under there. 

“THIS IS NOT THE POINT!” Eleanor cried out and from under her bed Flint could hear the sound of her smacking the bat against the mattress as best as she could, all in order to get to him. 

Flint smirked. “Loser.”

“You’re a fucking loser! All mopey because Thomas and Miranda frowned at you! Dude, like, get over it.” 

“You don’t get it.”

“Fuck off, I burned my dad’s house down once because he said my brother had better grades than me and was going better places. I know what disappointment is.” And then, as if realizing how deep this conversation was going, Flint could hear Eleanor clear her throat. “Besides, all you gotta do is suck it up a little and you’ll be fine. Or suck down, whatever works for you. However you like it.”

Flint was glad he was under Eleanor’s bed, this was because he was pleased that she wouldn’t have to see the expression on his face that clearly begged for the ground to swallow him at where this topic of conversation was going. All he needed to do now was find a way to shut it the hell down, otherwise...It would just get worse.

Eleanor was like him in many ways, particularly in the comforting of others and how both of them were complete fucking disasters about it. Eleanor liked to handle things like how Flint handled things, which usually meant seeing a giant house fire and walking over to help only to realize the water you thought you had was just more gasoline. And then? Still continuing to pour it everywhere.

That reminded him of that time in Ibiza... 

“Hey dude, let’s go throw eggs at Max’s house.” Eleanor kicked the bed then to gain his attention, just in case the whole ‘let’s-annoy-Max’ thing didn't register with him. “Like, you’re bored. And so am I. Because you’re like, all mopey and crap. So let’s go do something fun.”

And then, just as Flint was about to politely decline and tell her that he would much prefer to watch sad Lifetime movies and eat ice cream, Eleanor spoke once more.

“Do you think she likes me?” Her voice was tired and it had a sad quality to it that made Flint want to slap himself upside the head. Even more so when he quickly said no, not wanting to have to explain to Eleanor that her problem was simply...well...being murderous wasn't exactly a problem...She just, let out her frustration in all the wrong way?

Not that he could talk. 

“Dude,” Eleanor said after his answer, her voice quieter than before, “this is making me feel all depressed and mopey too. I think I’m going to go to Classic Charles’ house, you’re just a shit stain and you’re making me sad with this mopey crap.” She kicked the bed again, twice, growling. “Fuck you and don’t forget to lock the door while I’m out. I have many enemies.”

“I’m the only person in your phone book El!” Flint cried out after her in disbelief on her last statement.

“And the pizza place you ginger ingrate!”

**_SLAM!_ **

Flint sighed and hit his head off Eleanor’s floor, realizing too late it wasn’t carpet and trying hard not to let a pained whimper leave his lips. Fuck you laminated flooring, fuck you.

He really missed Thomas, his hugs, kisses, his cock and Miranda. If only he could find his phone to text that, instead Flint crawled out under Eleanor’s bed and did what he had planned to do in the first place: eat ice cream and Lifetime movies.

Wait wasn't the Good Wife on tonight? Fuck yeah. Things were finally starting to look up. But he still wasn’t feeling it 100%, so Flint did what Flint always did when he wasn't feeling it 100%. 

Sulk. And masturbate.

“Sorry El.” He said, not feeling very sorry at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm trying to update this as fast as i can because i'm the worst and i want to get to the part where eleanor makes life choices she regrets (oh wait...)


	4. the great escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> eleanor is trapped by a huge 6ft something lion that bites her in the ass and wonders if the pizza place will be able to trace her call if she suddenly hangs up. 
> 
> luckily flint has a ladder, and this time? he doesn't walk under it!

This was possibly the worst decision Eleanor had ever made, or so she thought when she opened her eyes to a dark, almost seedy room and felt a very large hand press against her back with enough strength to keep her there.

Two things popped into her head then.

> **1)** This room looked remarkably like Christian Greys' sex dungeon. (She hadn't watched the movie legally, alright?)
> 
> **2)** If the first was true then...

She whipped her head around so fast she felt her bones crick unexpectedly.

What the hell was Classic Charles doing here, in his own bed, with her in it too?! That just...didn't make any sense? There was no way in hell she would have allowed Charles to woo her into bed without any sort of persuasion.

Miranda's voice filled her head then, and as usual, offered reason where Eleanor could usually find none.

'Back muscles Eleanor, back muscles,' Miranda's voice reasoned with her, and like that Eleanor felt herself relax because, well, Mrs B did have a point there.

Flint's voice interrupted then, as rude and obnoxious as he was. “Dirty disco stick El, dirty disco stick.”

Eleanor very nearly gagged, eyes moving towards the slumbering naked man beside her and scoffing. Why did Flint always have to ruin bloody everything? She had been perfectly fine in just being happy with Charles back muscles, god fucking damn it.

As if to answer her further, Charles began to snore. Loud, gnarled breaths of noise that made his back rise up and down in such a way he more resembled a cat than a human.

Charles was pretty, even she had to admit it, but Eleanor could still remember how the night at prom had ended. And frankly? Would not want to risk a repeat of it.

She still remembered the stickiness of the gummy ring that he had forced on her thumb.

Gag. More gag. Vomit. A perfect memory to remember to get her arse into gear at getting the hell out of this seedy bed she had found herself in.

Eleanor tried to roll away from the hand pressed her back, but nada. Nothing was happening, she was, quite literally, stuck there because of the hand of Classic Charles.

Fuck, fuckity fuck. Where the hell was her phone?!

She spied it on dresser next to her, directly beside the lame skull lamp that Eleanor assumed Charles thought boosted his precious masculinity. She couldn’t remember how it had gotten there between all the lack of clothes and sucking of mouths (god, Charles was _such_ a hoover) but whatever, she needed it.

If only Charles would get his fucking meaty paw off her back.

Fuck it, she’d just have to leap at it.

One, two, three…

_**CRASH!** _

* * *

**F** lint woke up to the loud noise of his phone blaring Electric Six’s ‘Gay Bar’, the sound so loud he immediately jumped up and banged his head on the freezer door. It had been too damn hot in Eleanor’s shitty apartment and her bed had smelled of too much perfume, so the only solution had of course been to lie inside Eleanor’s freezer.

He slapped around his body to look for the bump that would signal where the fuck his phone was and so, after many attempts and finding multiple bumps, the relief he felt when he pressed that goddamn phone to his ear was enough to make him want to cry. Almost as much as that Good Wife episode last night, Jesus that had been a good episode…

“Fuck! Flint! Is that you?!” Eleanor’s voice whispered harshly in his ear.

Flint groaned and turned over onto his stomach, cheek pressed into the rather comfy bag of frozen peas. “Flint’s dead. But I can take a message.”

“Be undead and come save me from Classic Charles weight, please Flint I can’t _feel_ my fucking legs right now.” And as if to prove her point, Eleanor made a slapping noise and grunted like a pig. Flint had never hated bacon so much in his life right now, especially in this early hour of the morning.

“Yeah because you’re heartless.” God, his lips were feeling really numb right now. At least his arse was getting feeling back into its cheeks.

“My heart isn’t in my legs you ginger fuck-waffle, shut up and come help me!” A snore followed Eleanor’s desperate plea and if Flint actually felt like he could, he would have laughed at her misfortune, but funnily enough his body felt too stiff for that.

Flint realized he probably should help Eleanor out of the ridiculous situation she had gotten herself into, especially considering the mess of mint ice cream he had left all on her ratty couch. That and he had been messy and his hand couldn’t catch everything, now could it? Not that he was some animal – he did clean up after himself, Christ almighty!

Besides, probably a bad time to tell Ellie he had wrecked her couch.

“Fine,” he eventually grumbled out, pressing his face further into the comfort of the frozen bag of peas. “Don’t accidentally fall on his dick again before I get there.”

“It’s like _super glue_ I swear to god-“

“NO DETAILS!” Flint yelled and then shouted out ‘FUCK!’ when the freezer door slammed down onto his ass in retaliation for the noise.

* * *

**E** leanor had landed on the floor in her attempt to get to her phone, and of course, because she had angered God at the age of 15 because she had touched herself too much, he was now biting her promptly in the ass. Using the sheer force of fuckery to pull Classic Charles onto the floor right along with her, hand still on her back and his nose pressed to her hip, snoring louder still.

God, he was going to crush her at this rate. And if Flint didn’t end up coming for reasons unknown (maybe he would accidentally fall on a dick, sore loser) then what then, would she actually need to call the fire brigade? How would _that_ even work? Did they come for emergencies like this?

All very good questions, but Eleanor did not have the answer and so resigned herself to resting her chin on her hand and muttering grumpily under her breath.

Charles snorted in his sleep.

“Fucking shut your face,” Eleanor told him, choosing to ignore him as best as she could by going through her many contacts (2, not including the unknown number that apparently belonged to Max) and choosing to instead call the pizza place near her apartment. If Flint didn’t get here in time, then she knew who would.

“Hi! This is El Dino Pizza Palace, here to take your order with a smile!”

“Gerry please, I’ve told you that nobody believes this kind of crap over the phone.” Eleanor sighed, head cocked to the side and a finger twirling a strand of blonde hair in boredom, “all they want is a pizza, we all know that anyone working in this kind of business is miserable, it’s okay Gerry, and you don’t have to pretend with me.”

Gerry sighed a sigh of the long suffering. “Eleanor, can you just order a pizza like everybody else? This is the second time this week you’ve phone up without ordering, my boss is asking questions about this!”

Eleanor didn’t understand Gerry and why he thought she cared about him and his problems, though she vaguely suspected it was because she looked like she went to church every Sunday whenever she decided to put on a dress. Curse her vaguely angelic aura!

“Gerry, be cool,” she told him, rolling her eyes when Gerry snorted over the line as if he was laughing at her (he better fucking not be) and her awesome vocabulary, “I’m kinda craving pizza. The cheese kind and…”

Charles clung onto her tighter then, cutting her off as his hand pressed harder into her back and he rearranged his head to tuck into cheeks of her ass.  

Eleanor blew a stray lock of hair from her eyes in annoyance. Bloody Charles! If he wasn’t careful she would fart in his face, and then he _would_ be sorry for digging his face in her arse without her permission.

And was that…Teeth on her ass?

“Get here fast Gerry! Trace this call!” Eleanor whispered desperately down her phone, hanging up and throwing it down onto the floor next to her with a gasp as just as had suspected, she could feel Classic Charles teeth on her bare ass.

Where in the FUCKING HELL was Flint?

In answer to her inward scream for help, the very top of a ladder crashed through the window, spraying the room with shards of glass and wood that made Eleanor yelp in surprise and yet only made Charles turn over in his sleep, a snort of displeasure escaping him as a particularly large shard landed on his nose.

Eleanor didn’t give one single damn, she was free, god damn it, she was free!

Scrabbling to her feet, grabbing her phone and being mindful to watch the glass as she did so, Eleanor rushed to the window where the ladder had managed to smash its way through, eyes bulging when she saw who was coming up the ladder and more importantly…

“What the hell are you wearing? Are those cowboy boots and khaki shorts, and where the hell is your shirt?”

Flint glared up at her from where he was climbing up the ladder, “when did you become the Fashion Police? You wear dresses in the winter!”

Eleanor bit her tongue to refrain herself from arguing that wearing dresses in the winter was less about comfort and actually rather about fashion, which kind of made Flint’s point invalid. Just like Flint, unacceptable ginger shit.

“Cowboy boots and khaki shorts are unacceptable and I don’t want to be rescued by you any longer,” Eleanor told him with 100% seriousness that quickly fled out of the window, mostly at the realization that wow her nipples were really feeling nippy right now and oh… _Oh._

“Dude, why didn’t you tell me I have no shirt on?”

“You have no shirt on?” Flint replied, looking genuinely confused in a way that made Eleanor wonder if he had ever seen a human woman before in his life that wasn’t her or Miranda. Probably not.

Eleanor rolled her eyes and retreated to get dressed, tip-toeing past Charles sleeping form with a scoff of disgust when he tried to grab her foot in his sleep. It was one thing trying to get her to satisfy when he was awake, but could this guy not take no for an answer even in his sleep?

She kicked his face for good measure, satisfied when it only earned her a pained whine but no other sign that Charles was about to wake up. So that gave her another excuse to do it again, because why not?

By the time she had got dressed and grabbed all of her gear ( _no way was she leaving her recently bought strap on here_ ) Flint had managed to lift his leg over the window ledge, sitting comfortably on the top of the ladder and staring down at the very naked Charles Vane slumped on the floor beside his bed.

“How did you manage to fall on it this time?” Flint asked and with a jerk of his head Eleanor realized he was talking about the one thing Flint loved talking about the most: dick.

She shrugged, “I tripped. It wasn’t pretty, tripping never is.” Then when she was sure that the strap on was tucked into the back of her jean pockets as best as it possibly could be, Eleanor gestured for Flint to fuck off back down the ladder. “C’mon, let’s bounce.”

Flint looked alarmed for a moment and Eleanor didn’t know why until she spun around to see that Charles was standing, looking very much awake and very much like he would be suffering with a foot-shaped bruise for at least a good week. His teeth was also slightly crooked, but Eleanor couldn’t remember if they had always looked like that or if she had titanium feet without realizing.

Eleanor looked at Flint, wide-eyed. He returned her look, also pretty wide-eyed himself.

“ _Shit._ ” They whispered.

Very large, very greasy-looking and very bad for your health, Charles Vane could be described as a pizza if Eleanor and Flint had been willing to compare him to something rather tasty. Sadly they were not, both too busy trying to think up excuses on how they could explain why Flint was shirtless with khaki shorts and cowboy boots and why Eleanor was fully dressed and most certainly not ready for round 2 and 3 quarters.

Vane’s reaction was to squint, as if he kept doing that then maybe the image would disappear in front of him. But of course, it didn’t and that only led to more questions.

“Guys, what the hell?”

Flint shrugged and cast the blame in the only direction he was able to. “I don’t know, it was Eleanor’s idea to call me here.”

To both of their surprise Flint’s words only left Vane looking as though he had been punched in the gut, doubling over for a brief second before he regained his upright position with a roar of exuberance. Whatever the reason behind it, Flint and Eleanor eyed each other warily, not knowing what to expect next.

When Charles pointed a finger at Eleanor she only rolled her eyes at it, suddenly having a feeling of where she knew this was going to go.

“Why him, Honeypot? Why do you do this to me?” Charles whispered in anguish, his lip curled into a snarl and his finger now spinning wildly towards Eleanor, then Flint and back to Eleanor once more. “You come around and we have the time of our life, you tell me you love me-“

“I said I love my poor _morals_ , not Charles…“ Eleanor attempted to protest.

“Oh my god El, that doesn’t even rhyme.” Flint wished there was a gun to his head, it would have been better than standing here and listening to this.

“-and then you fuck me and leave! You know I could have accepted that,” oh crap, Charles was pacing now, moving back and forth so fast that Eleanor thought he was going to get himself so goddamn dizzy that he would hurt himself. “But bringing HIM here! To rub what you two do together in my face! It’s unforgiveable, I can’t believe I gave you half of my virginity!”

“Who?” Eleanor asked, her face scrunched up in disbelief as she attempted to figure out who this mystery man she was apparently having sex with actually was. “Flint, what the hell is he talking about?”

As usual Flint looked as clueless as she did, though unlike her, he was at least trying to follow where Vane’s finger was pointing by looking over his shoulder to see if there was anyone else there.

“You know who I’m talking about! Don’t fuck with me Eleanor!”

“It’s a bit late for that isn’t it?”

“God Flint, shut the fuck up.” Eleanor snapped over both of them, “and Charles? As much as it pains me to admit it – I’ve only fallen accidentally on _your_ boner, nobody else’s. And strap-ons do _not_ count.”

Charles did not look at all like he was listening to her, which was evident by how much he jumped from the floor and continued to point at Flint, or what was behind him. Whatever. Charles really was confusing the living crap outta her.

“Explain him then!” Charles practically yodeled, so loud that she was sure that the glass underneath their feet rattled wildly at the impact. But it didn’t matter, because Charles was still not making sense and his finger hadn’t moved from Flint’s direction, so not curing Eleanor of her’s or Flint’s confusion in the first place.

This was getting extremely boring and both Flint and Eleanor knew it.

There was only solution that could end this peacefully, or not so peacefully – honestly it depended on how much force she could put behind the blow, and not to mention the speed and how off guard Charles would need to be, and well…

Eleanor waited until Charles had turned on Flint (who squeaked like a fucking hamster, _prissy ginger walnut_ ) before she whipped out her newly purchased dildo and raised her arm, bringing it down almost immediately against the back of Charles head with such force it brought him to the ground with a _thwack!_

Flint looked at her weapon of choice with a disgusted curl of his lip. “I hope you cleaned that before you smacked the shit out of him with it.”

“Of course I did! I’m not some sort of animal or anything.” Eleanor said with a scoff, quite literally offended Flint would think such pure nastiness of her. “Anyway, go check if his dead or something.

“ _Me?_ Why do I have to do it?” And now Flint had the nerve to sound offended? Ungrateful bastard, Eleanor thought, she had just clubbed Charles with a dildo in order to save Flint’s head after all and so, was understandably upset.

“I just tired myself out clubbing him!”

“So? You sat on his dick last night, you go check!”

“I TRIPPED!”

“He isn’t dead, look at him, his breathing just fine!”

Eleanor took that as reason enough to club him on the head again with the purple strap-on she had in her possession, heaving a heavy sigh when she felt her arm begin to act up again in exertion.

Flint let out his own sigh, pressing his foot onto Charles back just to make sure that if he did spring up, at least they would have a head start. “Well, that’s _one_ way to let a guy down.”

Eleanor was about to answer him but at Charles startled groan her only reaction was to push Flint towards the window, grabbing her now bent strap-on (god, what a piece of cheap shit) and throwing it out of the window after him. It hit Flint on the head on the way down, but hey, it would at least cover the premature bald spot for half a second.

She followed Flint down the ladder seconds later, huffing all the way at how long and overzealous this whole escape had been.

“ _Worst. Escape. Ever.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER...
> 
> Flint and Ellie discover their worst enemy.  
> His called.  
> Dufresne.  
> And his.  
> Nine years old.


	5. holy severed limb batman!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> eleanor and flint are tasked with looking after a very compact alien creature which wears spectacles.
> 
> flint doesn't want anymore friends. but charles is an asshole and disagrees.
> 
> eleanor ate too much space cake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys! i'm sorry i've been m.i.a for a little while. i've been pretty busy prepping for exams (this explains why i haven't updated binds yet either btw, but i promise it isn't abandoned, i'm working on other stuff right now!) but i'm definitely going to try my hardest to update as much as i can

“His called Dufresne,” Thomas told Flint with a look in his eye that told Flint exactly what his boyfriend-not-really-sure-but-they-definitely-shared-some-very-homoerotic-tension (also sex) was trying to say to him. “Miranda’s nephew, actually.”

“What is it?” Eleanor asked behind Flint, her eyes narrowed inquisitively at the short floppy haired child that was being gripped tightly in Thomas’ typical bourgeois-like hands. Flint knew very well what it was, but the look of this boy made him shiver and not in the same way he shivered when Thomas smacked his arse with a paddle whilst Miranda read her Puritan books aloud.

Thomas smiled brightly, smacking Dufresne playfully on the shoulder. “Why Eleanor, it’s a child!”

“I was one of those once, but then I transcended this reality.” Eleanor said, trying very hard to sound like she had not just consumed five slices of space cake she had bought from the market.

“Give us a moment, Thomas,” Flint bit out with a pained grin, shutting the door momentarily to grab Eleanor’s cheeks and send her flying down the hall with a small push. Eleanor laughed wildly in reply, twirling and then tripping over a wire belonging to Flint’s laptop to land on his sofa.

When that was done he opened the door again, leaning his whole body weight on the wooden surface. He hoped that this position of his body in a manner of complete and utter seduction (Oooh Mr Hamilton!) would lure Thomas into his apartment, and therefore ditch the idea of passing Dufresne over to his and Eleanor’s care whilst Thomas and Miranda went to a business meeting. For…whatever business they were in…

Thomas was not buying it. He was still disappointed in Flint for getting caught for a mediocre offense that wasn’t even his fault in the beginning! It wasn’t fair, Eleanor always disappointed everything, but Flint? The only person he didn’t seem to disappoint was Thomas and now that had changed!

At least Thomas still appreciated his dick. But Flint had to admit it hurt he didn’t get as many fond looks anymore, but maybe taking care of this small creature called Dufresne would help him out in that matter, and even if it didn’t, it couldn’t hurt to try now _could_ it?

He reached out to take the small creature that wore glasses by the shoulder Thomas wasn’t holding, pulling him away from the man with a firm nod of his head. “You can trust me to look after him Thomas, I won’t look –“ Flint’s eyes strayed to the bobbing of Thomas’ throat when he swallowed and he had to restrain himself, “-anything happen to him.”

“Let, James, you meant let.” Thomas corrected with a bewildered tilt of his head.

“Definitely.” Flint said. “I meant let. Let’s get you inside Duf.”

“My name’s Crispin!” Dufresne protested in that annoying nasally voice that all nine year olds had, tripping over his laces as he stumbled down the hall to the area of the apartment where Eleanor was (hopefully) sleeping the space cake out of her body. “Tell this Englishwoman to get off the sofa! The remote is under her!”

Thomas beamed and cupped Flint’s cheek to press a kiss to it soon after. He was still looking as eager as a child in a candy store the moment he moved away, “isn’t he great?! I really think you, him and Eleanor will get along!”

All Flint could think of was how long Eleanor’s shitty ukulele would distract the nine year old alien before Thomas and Miranda would come collect him. He hoped it didn’t show on his face but it didn’t look like it had, especially because Thomas kissed him full on the mouth and left with mutters of affection that made his stomach twist in all those niggly little ways that made him want to take a chainsaw to the belly.

With Thomas gone Flint realized the only thing he could do was look after this human shaped knife in the back, and so with a reluctant sigh he trudged into his living room to see that Eleanor was pressed against the edge of his sofa’s arm, fear in her eyes.

“Jesus Ellie it’s just a kid,” Flint said, pointing at bane of his existence for the next couple of hours that was currently staring at Flint’s very naked mole-rat (as Eleanor often described it) cat with interest. “Woman up, you’re making me look bad.”

“I don’t like him and I don’t trust him. Make him go away.” Eleanor replied, hand already going towards the emergency nutella jar she kept under the sofa’s pillow to throw at Flint whenever she thought he was being a prick.

Flint sat on her hand to prevent her from moving it. “I say the same thing to you at least twice a day, I don’t tell you to fuck off do I?”

“Touché….” Eleanor grumbled against the nutella jar’s plastic lid, still eyeing the tiny explorer that had now managed to fumble its way towards Flint’s TV with perfect ease. He was a very small little thing that Eleanor suspected was very clever and would try to turn them against one another if he could, he just had that… _look_ …about him.

Flint looked at her as if she was crazy, but honestly? He felt the same unease around this child too, like there was something about him that meant certain death, betrayal or torture. It made him wonder how Miranda actually put up with the kid, or if she had been the one to teach him to carry this aura that made you instantly worry at your throat in case the person in question decided to rip their teeth into it.

When Dufresne turned to look at them both with a glint in his spectacles they instantly looked at one another, unsure on what to do next.

“Are you a part of the proletariat?” The nine year old spawn of Satan asked them, lifting his spectacles up from his nose to pick at it with obnoxious fervour. When he had finished picking his nose, he wiped the evidence on his sleeve, took a step forward and again addressed Eleanor and Flint with a look of complete malice. “You look part of the proletariat. But you also look like you’ve never worked a day in your life.”

“Fuck you, you’re like nine years old.” Eleanor’s immediate retort was a sentiment Flint felt heavy in his bones, and for once he was pleased Eleanor had spoken before he had. However when felt her turn towards him Flint had a feeling she would offer a suggestion that he (sadly) would need to decline. “Permission to break your TV over his head?”

“Denied.” Flint murmured and when Eleanor pulled a face he said, “I had to get bailed out of jail because you wanted to eat some French bread, you _owe_ me.”

Dufresne ignored the both of them to grab the remote from the sofa and sit in the middle of the room, already rushing through channel after channel in order to settle on BBC Sunday Politics. Flint regarded the choice with distasteful snort that made him look like an angry ginger pig, but whatever, bacon was great and Dufresne was the weirdest nine year old Flint had ever come across.

Eleanor took this chance to stand up and declare that she was using his spare room in order to talk to her many friends.

“I’m your only friend, especially after that whole Charles spectacle a week back.” Flint said with a grin, ignoring Eleanor’s flipping of the finger in his general direction to recall that while Eleanor had managed to get away from Classic Charle’s affections for a week, he on other hand had not been so lucky… “Only problem is now he wants to be _my_ friend instead.”

“Sucks to be you, Harold.” Eleanor said with a wink and the use of his middle name that made him want to fight her, however…

It was true. After Eleanor and Flint’s great escape from Charles apartment the man had finally taken the hint and had done his best to ignore Eleanor at all costs, practically running out of the room whenever he saw her or faking his lower abs were having attacks that caused him to collapse.

Eleanor was taking this _very_ well, some would actually argue she was taking it _too_ well considering that on Friday she had gone to wait for Charles in the back of his car to hide. She had told Flint to keep watch from her truck and film the whole thing, which had been fine up until the part she had failed to mention how long she thought Charles would be. A whole two hours had passed and both she and Flint were finding it hard to continue playing ‘I Spy’ when both of them were trapped in vehicles sitting in the same place.

Fortunately it hadn’t taken more than a minute longer after their very last game for Charles to appear and both Flint and Eleanor to get into position, Flint with his camera and Eleanor with a very large grin on her face.

The moment Charles had sat in his seat and was ready to drive back home, Eleanor had quite literally sprung.

Classic Charles screams had filled the parking lot, and along with Eleanor’s obnoxious laughter it had quickly managed to get itself a place as one of Flint’s favourite alarms to use in the morning – always bringing a smile onto his face and reminding him life was good.

He had hoped that his part in one of YouTube’s newest global sensation ( ** _#SCARED CREEPER RUNS FOR HIS LIFE!’_** ) would have given Charles a hint that Flint was not interested in friendship, but to his horror it had only made Charles more determined to the point Charles had found his number and was often texting him to ask for times when they could go do ‘manly activities’ together. Or so Classic Charles had specified in his texts.

Flint often wondered what Classic Charles saw as a manly activity, but no amount of curiosity in the world meant he would go hang out with him in a bar somewhere. He already had too many friends, he didn’t want anymore. Especially those who didn’t wash their hair for like, 3 whole centuries.

As if to remind him of his horrible situation, his phone began to do that weird buzzing thing that usually meant something was trying to message him or call him.

He brought it up to his ear, eyes squinting and ears strained as he tried to listen in.

Dufresne looked over his shoulder and arched a brow, clearly humoured by what he was seeing. “Mr Flint that’s a text message. It stopped buzzing, see?”

Flint’s eyes narrowed and when he looked down at his phone to see Classic Charles number up on his screen, a message already on there too…He wanted to do nothing more but to dash his phone at the nearest wall, or the window. Maybe Eleanor’s wall to remind her of the shit she had managed to get them both in, which in turn had led them to having to look after this little owl-eyed specimen who was too adult than both him and Eleanor put together.

No wonder he knew how phones worked, he was clearly too adult like and knowledgeable in a way that put Flint to shame.

Not that he was going to let Dufresne find that out. “I knew that Duf, I was just testing you.”

“Uh-huh.” Dufresne replied, already back into the usual politics that tried to bullshit each other every Sunday morning. “Oh and Mr Flint? What’s that smell?”

Flint sniffed strongly and found that the only smell he could detect was Eleanor’s overpowering perfume. Either way he didn’t really care, too preoccupied with the fact that from the little bit of the message he could see from Classic Charles that there was tons of kisses.

> **CC:** I’ve had an epiphany.
> 
> **JF:** well done (tick emoticon)
> 
> **CC:** I’m a terrible person. But people like me anyway? And I think it’s because of my good butt and great hair?
> 
> **JF:** only the 1 st half of that text is truth. The rest is a savage, cold lie u made up to let u sleep at night
> 
> **CC:** Either way I feel like I can be myself around you James, like…you get me. We’re both alpha males and like, nobody understands us? Like someone called me a feminist today because I hit both a man and a woman? I’m just…so fucked up about this, man.
> 
> **JF:** (shrug emoticon) seek help (angel sign)
> 
> **CC:** Maybe I _SHOULD_ go pray. Fuck dude, you’re right. You give the best advice, man. Xx

Flint turned off his phone, not willing to give Vane any other advice in case the man ended up wanting to suck his nuts. Flint had that problem with most men, he put it down to his natural aura and deadly _(literally_ ) charm.

It was then he thought perhaps the best thing would be to find out what this kid wanted. Maybe Dufresne didn’t want food, maybe he only wanted to consume the politics on TV and dominate the whole world? Maybe he would find a way to vote for UKIP and give Flint an excuse to kick his ass back into the 18th century?

(He didn’t mean to be oddly specific about that.)

He got up from his sofa and just as he did the stench of what could be a…

“Duf, excuse me for a moment.” Flint growled, covering his nose and heading straight for the spare bedroom where he could see Eleanor was trying to fall asleep inside. How she could with that smell was lost on him, but he knew for certain that if he could smell it then it was no doubt the same thing Dufresne had smelled a few moments back.

He kicked Eleanor’s bed until she sat up, blonde hair now in a loose ponytail and her eyes glaring daggers at his interruption of her beauty sleep.

“I’m going to pull out my serious moves in a second Flint if you don’t fuck the hell outta here, let me have my beauty sleep old man!” Eleanor grumbled, already turning back to bury her head under the single pillow on her bed.

“Are you forgetting something?” Flint moved to grab the boot from Eleanor’s foot and smacked it against the wall, making Eleanor retaliate by jumping up to hit him with her pillow. “Something important, _Eleanor?_ ”

Eleanor’s answer was to smack him again with the pillow until Flint whimpered in defeat. Of course it was only a temporary defeat, immediately after he felt the coast was clear he grabbed the pillow to chuck it behind his shoulder so he would be able to rip into Eleanor without interruption. It was at this point he supposed Eleanor was regretting even coming here in the first place, but Flint was a bit busy trying to get to the point where Eleanor explained why the hell…

“Is that a body under your bed, Englishwoman?” Dufresne called out from behind Flint, and yet before Flint could fly kick the small creature into the other room (gently, of course) Dufresne was crawling in between his legs, pointing at the object where the god awful smell was coming from.

Eleanor’s face dropped and went paler than usual when she saw Flint drop to his knees (crushing Dufresne in the process) to look under the bed too.

“In my defence he touched my ass without my permission!” Eleanor complained, leaning onto her stomach to also take a quick peek under the bed. “And you know how footsy Silver gets, it’s pretty much legit!”

Flint glared up at Eleanor at the word ‘footsy’. “ _Hilarious_ , Ellie.”

Under Eleanor’s bed was a severed limb, a leg to be exact, foot and all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this totally counts as a cliffhanger right??


End file.
